


Fevered Dreams

by DixieDale



Category: Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 04:07:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15111485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Garrison's malaria returns just as they are ordered out on a vital mission.  For a very valid reason, Garrison decided not to tell the guys, just count on the pills Doctor AJ Riley gave him to let him continue in the role as team leader.  Now, it seems Garrison is getting worse by the minute, and his frustration about that is matched by finding one of the guys at his shoulder every step of the way, short-circuiting some of his wilder flights of fancy.  Somehow, they are finding a good excuse for him never to be alone, never go out on his own, even when doing so makes perfect sense.  When will he figure out he's being nursemaided?  Well, maybe after the hallucinations and nausea and fever and all the rest goes away.  Maybe.  When the fevers and chills hit full force, the guys are forced to take over the mission totally, leaving Garrison and Goniff in a tiny abandoned cottage to wait it out.  As the guys race to accomplish the mission, Goniff finds himself with the task of keeping an increasingly erratic Garrison calm and out of danger.  Which part of the team had the most hair-raising job?  That's a good question.





	Fevered Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Second part of scenario: 'Garrison always says he's fine. What happens when he really ISN'T and tries to hide it from the guys and just carry on?" 
> 
> First part was the more comedic side, while they're at the Mansion, the story "I Told You, I'm Fine, Damn It!" This is the more hazardous side, when they're sent on a mission.
> 
> War years, obviously, early on when connection to The Cottage and Meghada O'Donnell is in its earlier days as well.

The timing really sucked! Of course, the malaria DID seem to hit during high-stress times, but pretty much all he had were high-stress times anymore so that didn't really narrow things down a lot. But for it to hit now, just when HQ had come up with its latest brainstorm! Just thinking about that piece of madness and the probable outcome made Garrison want to groan. He picked up his hat, yelled, "I'll be out for awhile; BE HERE when I get back!"

A quick jeep ride that did nothing for his tossing stomach and he was explaining his little predicament to an understanding but dubious Doctor A J Riley.

"And there is no chance they'll just assign the mission to another team?" and the disgusted look on Garrison's face told him the answer.

"No, they've gotten the bright idea, well, it's one that's reared its head in the past, but every time it does, it causes grief. No, they're back to the 'men are interchangeable parts' nonsense. They tried that with the team members, and that worked about as well as expected - some success, but not as much as if they'd left things alone. Well, it only makes sense; you work better when you know how the other guys think, how they're gonna react to a situation, that you can count on them. Well, now they've decided a Team Leader should be interchangeable too; never mind needing to know the guys inside and out, knowing their strengths and weaknesses - none of that, just mass components, waiting to be plugged into a slot with the same label. I'm not too sure how well it would work in peacetime, in a civilian setting, but now? Sheer stupidity! It's going to get people killed!" A J sympathized; it was one of those ideas that sounded logical but turned out to be anything but.

"Well, I have the medicine here, of course; I keep it on hand knowing your history. But, Craig, it will HELP with the symptoms, lessen their severity, not prevent their occurrence nor shorten the duration of the episode, you know that. And that is definitely going to affect your performance. If you are certain you MUST go on this mission, you have to tell your men. They have to be prepared, know how to handle any symptoms, know that your capability is lessened."

That got the strong refusal AJ had been expecting, and he didn't really press the issue. Soon Garrison was headed back to the Mansion, pills in his pocket, leaving A J Riley sipping a cup of coffee and thinking. Patient confidentiality was important; keeping his patients ALIVE, more important. Soon, he picked up the phone and made a phone call; before long he had another visitor, and another serious conversation ensued.

Garrison leaned his head back against the car seat. The mission was a bear and a half, just like it had appeared from the briefing he'd been given, way too many moving parts, too many places they all needed to be, too far away from each other in case of trouble. He'd tried to tell HQ that, of course, but they'd looked at him with those totally non-comprehending faces, eyes just puzzled at the difficulties he was, for some unknown reason, trying to dredge up. McMasters had been quite firm about it all -

"If you all do your parts properly, Lieutenant, I shouldn't imagine you'll have too much trouble. Your men are supposed to be experts in their professions; if they are not up to the job, we really don't need them, now do we? We could send them back where they came from, get you a contingent of proper soldiers in their place," seemed the consensus.

Garrison held his temper in check, although it had been a struggle, and left, swearing under his breath after he got to the hallway. Somehow, somehow he had to manage this. They were his responsibility, his to lead and protect. He couldn't let his own weakness cause him to fail them. He repeated that to himself now, somewhere in the middle of Nazi Germany, leaning his aching head back once again, {"mine to lead, mine to protect!"}

He had been totally focused on the job, making sure everyone remembered every detail, had the timetable firmly committed to memory, enough that they were starting to get a little annoyed with him.

"Yes, Craig, we know the plan. Please, just let us focus on doing our jobs now," finally Actor had to tell him, and although Garrison had given them all a rather doubtful look, he'd stopped repeating the plan over and over.

Well, sort of repeating the plan. A J Riley had explained everything to Actor, everything to look out for, and this tendency to keep going over the same ground had already been something they'd seen in Garrison, now it was in an even more exaggerated form. The problem was, the confusion caused by the malaria was affecting his little lectures, the details shifting slightly, more than slightly in some of the re-telling, and Actor was concerned it might throw the men off their game. 

He took them aside, cautioned them, and was both amused and reassured when they told him, "don't worry, Beautiful. We stopped listenin to him the second time he started explainin shit and gettin it all screwed up."

"Yeah, Actor, no worries. Right after 'e told Chiefy to pick that bloke's pocket real nice and easy, and told me to be sure and take out that guard with my knife from way over on the corner, knew 'e was off. We're just nodding and thinking through the job on our own. We know w'at we're supposed to do."

Actor wondered if he'd ever have the nerve to repeat this conversation to Garrison, and rather doubted it.

"And you Chief?", getting a long almost bored look.

"Don't listen to fever dreams, Actor; aint smart. Just going along enough to keep him easy in his mind," and that made the tall conman appreciate the innate intelligence of the quiet, reserved young man more than ever.

"Yes, that's exactly what we have to do. Try not to argue with him, contradict him, but don't let this interfere with getting the job done and keeping him and ourselves alive. One of us has to be with him at all times. We'll work that out depending on who has to be where at any set time; of course, I'll have to take over his part of the job with the Commandant," and they worked together, making a plan that had some strong chance of working, adapting, amending things to avoid the obvious drawback of trying to be in two places at once.

Finally, they had it organized so that their roles needed to be carried out at different times, so that worked, though with more than a few anxious moments. The hardest part had been Actor having to take on both his and Garrison's jobs, along with convincing Garrison that that had been Garrison's plan all along. It wasn't easy, in fact, the whole thing was a bitch, but they were good at what they did, and determined, and they made it work.

The others were gone now, Goniff remaining behind, his part of the operation already accomplished. He was pretty sure this was the worst of it, the one job he felt least capable of handling, though he was determined to give it his all. He refused to let the guys down, refused to let the Warden down. Nope, not gonna happen. But now, after the past few very demanding hours, he felt wrung out, like a wet washrag. At least Garrison had slept for awhile, let Goniff try to get his nerves re-settled. Surely the man would be more himself when he woke, surely.

Garrison opened his eyes, licked his dry lips, and immediately had a cup with water there for him to take a drink, a strong arm lifting him to help him manage better. Opening his drowsy green eyes, he looked into the anxious pale blue ones looking down at him.

"Thanks."

Goniff gave a quick relieved smile. "Bout time you woke up. Was getting worried!" he admitted.

That got a little laugh, and he relaxed even more - maybe the Warden was finally coming out of it. Somehow, the next words, the tone of voice, out of the young Lieutenant's mouth didn't seem to point in that direction though.

"Silly, nothing to worry about. Didn't mean to sleep so long but that meeting last night with those idiots at HQ just went on forever. You'd think once they said everything important, they'd just shut up, but no, they have to say it again and again. THEN, they have to start saying everything NOT important, and then start all over again. Sometimes it's hard sitting there through it all; I just want to get up and tell them all how little they know about how it really is out there, and just get up and leave."

Since they'd been away from Brandonshire for several days now, and it had been at least three or four before that that Garrison had been up at HQ, Goniff figured his sense of relief was way premature. 

He scrambled to catch up with the conversation Garrison seemed intent on having, though; anything to keep him from scrambling around totally delirious like he'd been hours before. He'd kept wanting to leave the cottage, and it had taken everything Goniff could manage to keep him inside without resorting to coshing him upside the head, which he really preferred not to have to do, though not ruling it out entirely, mind you.

The pickpocket had been getting desperate, thinking, {"Ruddy 'ell, what's next! Aint gonna be able to 'andle 'im, not alone, if 'e don't settle down! Maybe if 'e just keeps talking . . . Wish there wasn't just me. . . Wish there was someone else to 'elp."} But there wasn't, the little abandoned cottage silent and empty; they were totally alone. 

Finally, much to Goniff's relief, Garrison HAD settled down, though muttering to himself, almost as if having a conversation, though nothing above the faintest of sound came from those dry lips. His eyes kept moving from place to place, as if following movements only he could see. The range of emotions that crossed the Lieutenant's face had varied too, amazingly so, enough Goniff had rather wished he knew who the man thought he was talking to, wished he could hear that inaudible conversation.

He muttered to himself, "might be more than a bit interesting; better than sitting 'ere wondering when 'e's gonna go off, trying to get out again."

Now, it seemed they were back in the awake but certainly not-quite-lucid phase, and Goniff geared himself up to deal with it as best he could, hastening to answer Garrison's complaint about the idiots up in London.

"Ei, well, you know you can't do that; you might convince them, you know; 'ave them decide they needed to go take a look for themselves. Then w'ere'd we be, giving ruddy guided tours to some desk jockeys and ninety-day wonders. Drive us outta our ruddy minds, that would!"

Garrison seemed to think that over, and nodded, "yeah, but maybe we could lose a few in the process. I can think of more than one we'd be better off without. Major Kingston would be pretty high on the list. Not to mention Lieutenant Waters." 

Goniff couldn't remember that last name, Waters, though he had to agree about Kingston, but figured, what the hell, if Garrison wanted to talk, why not. He got up and took another look out the crack in the shutters. No sign of the guys, but they hadn't expected to be back for awhile yet. No sign of anyone else either, and that was good. The Warden talking to him like this was one thing; he shuddered at the Germans getting hold of a talkative, ever so cooperative Garrison.

"Lieutenant Waters? Don't think I've 'ad the pleasure," he prompted.

"And if I have anything to say about it, you never will! Would you believe, he's the 'Alternate Team Leader' for you and the guys??!"

This was the first Goniff had heard about Alternative Team Leaders and figured a little more information just might come in handy.

"W'at that mean? W'at's 'e s'posed to do?"

Garrison closed his eyes and sighed, "I don't really . . . Well, I guess you'd better know, just in case. When Crawford got shot and was down for two weeks, the Powers That Be got all bent out of shape because his team was put on Stand-down. Decided that it was 'inefficient' to pull a team just because the Team Leader was out of commission for awhile. Some bright guy decided we should have 'Alternate Team Leaders' to take over; not the team SIC, like Actor, but some outsider who knows diddlysquat about the team, the guys, the missions, anything. Idiots all think they're Eli Whitney!"

"Eli who?" Goniff asked with a puzzled frown.

That set Garrison off on a long rambling monologue about Eli Whitney, American, 19th century, interchangeable parts for muskets, with a lovely long segue over to the First Punic Wars and Carthaginian warships. Goniff had decided about sixty seconds in that this was all information he had absolutely no need to be cluttering up his brain with, and had just taken to nodding as if with great interest, adding in an occasion, "ai" or "and then w'at?" as it seemed appropriate.

Finally Garrison stopped, "can I have another drink," and Goniff hastened to bring the battered cup and lift the man's head again, straightening the blankets he'd snaffled the same time he'd grabbed the cup and canteen of water.

"Anything to eat?" and Goniff had to tell him, "no, sorry. Wish there was. Could sure go for some of 'Gaida's soup right now, and some of that puffy bread she makes."

Meghada had rather taken them under her wing, and was known to show up at the Mansion with a pot of soup and bread, maybe a basket of scones once in a while. That was in addition to the lovely snacks she'd feed Goniff when he'd climb over her garden wall and sit with her at that little table in her garden. 

Garrison nodded, "yeah, that'd be good. Did you say she's coming home soon? Maybe she'll bring back makings for those walnut cookies we like, along with the rest of the groceries? Still, it's kind of nice, it just being the two of us for a little while. That doesn't happen too often anymore."

The smile that accompanied that statement was soft and warm. He didn't notice Goniff looking at him oddly, didn't hear the uncertainty of the reply, "no, not too often, that's right," Goniff thinking that seemed to be the safest way to reply to that little bit of conversation.

"Are the kids out playing? They were in here earlier, when Meghada stuck her head in to tell me she was leaving; they kept me laughing with all the stories of what they've been up to. I don't hear them now," Garrison turning his head to the side, as if listening. 

Goniff gulped, thinking hard, paddling as fast as he could, "yeah, I asked them to keep the racket down; figured you needed to sleep. You know 'ow they get," getting a low fond laugh from Garrison that somehow tugged at the pickpocket's insides.

"Oh, yeah, I know how they get. Some of the things they get up to, reminds me of you and the guys, you know. Well, guess that's to be expected, all the things the guys are teaching them, along with all the stories Gil keeps telling them about the old days at the Mansion. And you, teaching them all the fancy-finger stuff; inherited your talent, every one of them. I'm glad the boys mostly got your blue eyes, though I know you said you'd like at least one or two more with my green ones, and the girls with the gold-brown, of course. Blonds and redheads, just like we figured! Did I tell you I caught Casino giving a handy little lesson on handling nitro the other day? Thought Meghada was going to hit him on top of his head. Actually, she DID hit him on top of his head; reminded him of what she's told him before - the kids have to be able to reach the safe without standing on a chair before he could teach them anything about nitro!"

Goniff was struggling hard to keep the panic off his face; he had no luck whatsoever keeping it out of his mind. "Ei, well, that makes sense, I guess."

"Oh, yes, of course, but that didn't keep Casino from pouting and complaining. You know Casino." 

Garrison shifted in place on the makeshift pallet, and smiled up at Goniff, a surprisingly sensuous and inviting smile. "HOW long did you say it was going to be before Meghada gets back?" His voice had also changed in pitch, warmer now, slightly husky.

Whether Goniff was relieved or not by the faint sound from outside that indicated the guys were returning, he just wasn't sure anymore. Well, yes, of course he was; he'd have been the first to tell you that! {"Blimey, acourse I am!!"}

Actor came in first, the others close behind, nodding to Goniff. "How is he doing? Back to his old self yet?" and Goniff took a long look at the recumbent Garrison, now back to dozing again, wondering just how to answer that.

He decided on a brief, "ah, not quite yet. Still 'as aways to go, I'd say."

By the time they were packed up and ready to leave, Garrison's fever had broken and, while weak and shaky, he was able to move on his own. The trip back was, thank goodness, without incident, other than Goniff getting seasick, as usual. The debriefing went on without a hitch, especially since Actor had insisted on them preparing rather extensively for that on the way back. If those reading the reports ever noticed the wording was remarkably similar, they never seemed to make anything of it.

And later, back at the Mansion, when Garrison insisted everyone fill him in on what had happened while he'd been indisposed (yes, and he was suitably embarrased by that!), they had done so, with just a few judicious omissions. And if the others were a little puzzled by his one comment, they took it in stride, even though Goniff did get a real strange look on his face.

Garrison had told them, "it's real lucky we found that family that took us in. It's all a little fuzzy, what with the fever, but they seemed really nice; woman was a really good cook too - you know Goniff appreciated that! - and the kids, stairsteps, blonds and redheads, smart as a whip, every last one of them! Reminded me of you guys in some ways, and if that isn't a scary thought!!" And if the laughter seemed a little forced, especially from Goniff, well, Garrison didn't pay too much attention; it had been a rough trip, after all.


End file.
